III The Prophet of Motherhood

On the day of Woe, I returned to find the place abandoned; even the Hermit who lives in the lofty chamber #IX was not at home.

So I went out to the woods looking for them. Once a year, the prophets will gather by the Ageless tree.

She is the Prophet of Motherhood; the one who weeps over an empty nest; the one who waits by the roadside for the prodigal child to return. She has her limbs stretched far and wide to give shelter to wayward travelers who have lost their way home; she is the one who watches over the prophets at the darkest hour of the night.

She is the perhaps only reason the agoraphoebic Hermit will ever leave his room; with his lamp that will slowly burn the City of Glass into the ground, he will lead them to the tree where the mother lives and one by one, they will lay a rose at the feet of the nameless one..